


The blessing of obliviousness?

by Hopelessinsomniac



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Facing Fears, I FUCKING FORGOT TO TAG THIS FOR OVER 12 CHAPTERS, Isak is in 3rd year, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Not a Love Story, Pairing is not the main focus, Texting, glad we got that straightened out, gruesome details, tagstobeaddedlater, there you go, violence(possibly graphic), wnb horror/thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopelessinsomniac/pseuds/Hopelessinsomniac
Summary: Jonas crashes his bike while Isak sits in the back. Isak breaks his wrist and his phone, not a big deal.But later that night Isak wakes up in cold sweat with deeply disturbing images stuck to his head and as Jonas seems to not remember any of these things happening, Isak is led to believe he had just seen a nightmare.But as the horrifying vivid images rob Isak night after night of sleep, he is left to decide whether he wants to continue lying to himself or find out once and for all what had really happened.





	1. What are they talking about

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a story that might contain a little horror. I don't really know what to say except that I've never tried to write anything "scary". I'm excited. Hopefully someone will want to read this!  
> Isak is currently in the third year but not all that happened in season 4, has happened. Even never transferred to bakka for instance. You'll find out if I've changed something crucial. From how I'm planning this right now, is that about every other chapter is going to be texting. This person is a big part of this story and I don't want to have long text message dialogues in the middle of a chapter.
> 
> I'm not a native speaker so mind the mistakes. You can correct me. Thanks for reading and comments make my day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case the image stops working; there is supposed to be an image of a chat.  
> And let's pretend it's not a facebook chat even though it is. Cheers

**Saturday 02:40**


	2. The sunny autumn day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck is this?” Jonas asks and Isak can see all colour has left his face.  
> “It can’t be real,” Isak states and reaches down to pick up a stick with his healthy hand and pokes at it but nothing happens.  
> “Let’s get out,” he says letting go of the stick like it would’ve suddenly turned poisonous and he gets up so quickly it leaves him feeling faint.  
> “Shouldn’t we call like the police?” Jonas asks.  
> “No fucking way. This is insane. Let’s just go,” Isak insist already feeling his mind starting to block the reality where he had seen whatever he had seen.  
> “But we can’t just leave it here either. I mean it looks just-“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the setting of the story. So is the next chapter too probably.  
> Sorry, my mind is blank since it's kinda late right now. I might add something to this note later but as in for now:  
> Thanks for reading!

**Monday 09:21**

He hops onto the back of the bike and without even stopping the other carries on with his fierce pedalling. The morning is crispy and as they race downhill the wind on his face feels like small needles poking on his skin. Autumn has coloured the trees and the grass but he doesn’t really pay any mind to it. The only thing he has really paid attention to is the fact that the nights had gotten so very dark.  
He stares at the boy in front of him, or the back of his head, and can see a drop of sweat push through the smooth skin of his neck.  
Suddenly the bike comes to a halt, brakes screeching and it throws both of them off its back like a wildered horse. The moments they are flying feel like forever and both of them seem to have plenty of time to agonize over the situation they can do absolutely nothing about.  
Jonas is the first to tumble down and Isak falls partly on top of him and they lay there on the cold asphalt for a while grimacing. Jonas jumps up checking himself and tries to clean his pants while Isak raises himself to sit clumsily and is about to fall down as he tries to lean on his left hand. He lifts the damaged hand to eyelevel and can instantly see the wrist is twisted in a weird angle and it is so painful he can’t move it at all.

“Fuck me,” he groans as his eyes fall upon his smartphone that is in two pieces approximately two meters away from him.

“Did you see that?” Jonas says flustered and he looks very pale and shaken. His expression instantly wipes off Isak’s annoyance towards him and is replaced by concern.

“See what?” he asks while trying to move his injured hand with the help of the healthy one but the wrist just crackles nastily and the throbbing pain spreads through his body in cold flashes.

“I’m not sure,” Jonas answers with a hollow tone.

“Stop fucking around. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What is it?” Isak says huffing out a nervous laughter but it doesn’t catch on to Jonas who is looking dead serious.

“I’m not kidding. I have to go see what it was,” he says and after that he marches back to the direction where they came from. Isak furrows his brows in confusion but gets up from the asphalt. He doesn’t let his eyes off Jonas as he goes to haul Jonas’ bike, with huge effort and pain, from the road to the sidewalk. The foot of it is broken so Isak discards it to the side and runs off after Jonas, who steps off from the sidewalk through the bushes and slips among the loosely growing pine trees. Isak hesitates for a while but goes after him. He doesn’t have the slightest idea what to expect and is scared as he sees Jonas standing back faced to him within a few meters. Isak is on the verge of asking what did he find but stops before reaching him and his insides twist. He feels nauseous to the point that he wants to throw up and he covers his mouth with his hand as he starts to gag. He pinches his nostrils closed as he realizes the god-awful smell floating in the air around them. What he didn’t realize though was that the previously cold and strong wind had disappeared leaving the air surrounding them still and heavy. In a wobbly tall pine in front of him, is an arm. A loose arm hanging on its lowest branch. It is pale and covered with stains. From the distance he can’t tell whether it’s real or not but the foul smell doesn’t leave him too optimistic.

“Do you have other siblings than Lea?” Jonas asks with a shaky voice and Isak is so shaken up with what he had discovered that he doesn’t even think twice about the odd question before answering:

“Not that I know of.”

“Y-you sure?” Jonas stutters and keeping his eyes glued to the stained hand hanging from the branch Isak walks next to him and stares at it. His mind goes completely blank as he does so. His blood seems to freeze inside his veins and he goes still as a statue and even though he wants to turn around and run he can’t. He stands there feeling a mix of disgust and horror he hopes to never have to feel again.

“What the fuck is this?” Jonas asks and Isak can see all colour has left his face.

“It can’t be real,” Isak states and reaches down to pick up a stick with his healthy hand and pokes at it but nothing happens. “Let’s get out,” he says letting go of the stick like it would’ve suddenly turned poisonous and he gets up so quickly it leaves him feeling faint.

“Shouldn’t we call like the police?” Jonas asks.

“No fucking way. This is insane. Let’s just go,” Isak insists already feeling his mind starting to block the reality where he had seen whatever he had seen.

“But we can’t just leave it here either. I mean it looks just-“

“Shut the fuck up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Isak shouts so loud he manages to scare the both of them. And after that he can hear Jonas say something but he can’t make clear of any of the words. They all sound just gibberish. The foul smell clogs his nostrils and he feels his entire body shiver with cold before the whole world turns soft and warm.

Isak wakes up in cold sweat breathing shallow breaths. He looks around in panic only to find out he is in his own bed.  
“It was a dream. It was a dream,” he tells himself quietly and forces himself to take a few deep breaths but his panic returns even bigger as he lifts his hands to his face and feels throbbing pain on his wrist. He opens his eyes to look at the hand in question and notices it has a cast on it that has Jonas’ doodlings on it.

His breath hitches and he sits up trying to look for his phone from his nightstand only to find his precious Iphone shattered to pieces. Why was it on his nightstand if it was broken? And why were the pieces placed together like in a desperate attempt to hide the fact that it was broken. Continuous waves of cold runs through his whole body as he tries to make sense of what happened. Making up explanations as quickly as he could.

He had hit his head and hallucinated, he had gotten some kind of a stroke or the whole thing was a dream. In reality his hand had broken in a car accident and he had amnesia and his was having some kind of post-traumatic stress-disorder that was feeding him these horrendous images.

To his agony he isn’t sure whether any of these explanations make him feel at ease but they are all more believable than what he remembers. He closes his eyes in hopeless effort to sleep it off but all he can see is his own pale face splattered with dried blood, teeth broken and glassed eyes staring into nothing. One hand reached out and the other missing. Hanging from a pine tree that bowed upon his naked body that was bended out oddly, like it’s joints would have been made out of rubber.

 


	3. Why am I talking to you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can’t sleep. In his bed Isak just twists and turns. Every corner of the dim room grins at him maliciously and his heart can’t seem to calm down. The boy is trying to think of anything else than what he had seen but suddenly it seems like the only memory he has left. The scene keeps playing itself on a loop and he can’t help but watch it. The green eyes’ empty stare and the outstretched hand like it would’ve been trying to reach something before all life had been sucked out of it. The pale skin stained with blood and dirt to a state that it reminds Isak of a Jackson Pollock painting he so vividly remembered from his arts history book for no specific reason.
> 
> He needs to talk to Jonas. 
> 
> Right fucking now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to remind you that I'm using the 24 hour clock. Not twelve. So this is happening the night between Monday(previous chapter) and Tuesday. This story (excluding the first chapter) will go on chronologically and future flashbacks etc will be in cursive. Awesome if you read this!  
> This didn't get too many hits but still thanks for everyone who did read this and hopefully you'll stick around even if this particular chapter is a bit dull♥  
> (I will try to post the "real" chapter in a few days. Haven't spellchecked it yet.)

**Tuesday 02:40**

****

****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you read the summary yet? If not, please do!  
> AND I KNOW the pictures are from facebook chat. Let's pretend they are normal texts, okay? Cool, cool. I knew I could count on you. ( and just incase the images stop working. There's supposed to be 4 chatboxes)


	4. What do they know that I don't?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What did you want to talk about?” Jonas asks and Isak clears his throat to buy some time. Every waking seconds make him more uncertain whether the whole day had just been a dream.
> 
> “It’s Tuesday, right?” he starts off making Jonas frown and nod.
> 
> Where did they even find the thing? Now that he thought about it hard, he didn’t remember getting there. All he remembered was jumping on the back of Jonas’ bike like they both would’ve just spawned there. And where the hell was this “there” anyway? Not in centre Oslo at least.
> 
> “Is everything okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here I am again. If you feel like you have no idea what's going on, worry not. That's the point. And yay. The title's theme comes up in this chapter! The pondering will continue throughout this.  
> Thank you so, so, so much for reading. Hopefully this isn't too dull. This is really hard but fun at the same time. I'm juts so lousy setting things up. Mind the mistakes!  
> ♥

**Tuesday 13:50**

Isak isn’t planning his assignment. He is captivated by a picture of a dark shadow printed next to a text he hasn’t read yet but he knows it’s got something to do with the history of Norwegian literature because that’s what the course is called. It is probably a cover of one of those “must read” books that according to most people everyone has read. And it is funny how people keep saying it: “Everyone has read it” when it’s obviously not true. None of his friends or acquaintances from school had read any of these “must read” books but it had no influence on the apparent consensus of this opinion Isak didn’t share.

History is important, sure, and he supposed that all of the books included in this list of books that “everyone has read”, pieces such as Romeo and Juliet, Moby Dick, the Devil comes to Moscow, of which Isak had read none, were ground-breaking when they were first published. And didn’t doubt the quality of these works but he was doubtful whether most of these subjects the books handled were current anymore.

Not that he would’ve read them either way. He isn’t too keen on reading, has never been and most likely never will never be.

When the class is dismissed he is still staring at the dark figure daring it to move again, as he was sure it had done a while back, but the longer it stays there unmoving - as expected from a picture - the worse Isak feels.

He had been thinking about the stranger’s words for the rest of that night and was pretty sure there was a simple analogy behind them but for some reason he didn’t see it. Both of these suggested outcomes were morbid to say the least and he had no idea who on earth could feel relieved in either case.  
But he had read somewhere that it is specifically the brain that need sleep, not our body, and that even one sleepless night lowers a person’s cognitive abilities noticeably. So perhaps Isak is just too tired to reason with himself?

**15:00**

“Can we talk?” Isak asks trying not to sound hasty. Jonas unlocks his bike and nods glancing at Isak.

“Sure.”

Isak hadn’t thought this through. He still didn’t know what to ask and how to ask it. He couldn’t just bluntly ask whether they found Isak’s clone’s body the day before from the woods, right?  As he keeps thinking about the situation a weird feeling takes him over making his connection to this world flicker for a moment too long.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jonas asks and Isak clears his throat to buy some time. Every waking second makes him more uncertain whether the whole day had just been a dream.

“It’s Tuesday, right?” he starts off making Jonas frown and nod. Not a strong start.

Where did they even find the thing? Now that he thought about it hard, he didn’t remember getting there. All he remembered was jumping on the back of Jonas’ bike like they both would’ve just spawned there. And where the hell was this “there” anyway? Not in centre Oslo at least.

“Is everything okay?”

The bike! Jonas was driving his bike. Its foot wasn’t broken. But how had Isak broken his hand then?

“Sure. My arm’s just hurting really bad,” Isak lies trying to laugh the edges off but Jonas doesn’t buy it.

“Did you talk about it? With your mom?” he asks nodding towards Isak’s cast that had gained more artistic value in the hands of Magnus. That is if one calls penises art.

“What’s there to talk about?” Isak asks and something in his friend’s expression changes. It is a minor change but noticeable but Isak can’t figure it out. Is it anxiety? Was there a reason to talk to his mom?  
Had he even been with Jonas yesterday the time he broke his arm?

He doesn’t get an answer as Magnus appears slamming Isak on the butt and flashing a victorious smile. “Vilde gave me her number.”

“Dude. Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?” Jonas asks laughing and his mood seems to have lighten.

“Could you call me? The both of you so I get your numbers? My sim card is empty for some reason,” Isak asks before Magnus can reply. Things slip so quickly out of his head that he ought to say them right away.

“What happened to your phone?” Magnus asks with a keen smile that is obviously waiting for a funny story. A silence falls between them. Isak keeps glancing at Jonas in hopes he would say something but he remains quiet.

“I destroyed it just like my wrist.”

“Wow. Great story, Isak. I’ll be sure to remember that by heart,” Magnus puffs crossing his arms playfully.

 _But the bike’s foot isn’t broken. Jonas hadn’t fell on his bike. He doesn’t have a scratch in him,_ he thinks to himself again. Just to make sure he realizes what he's looking at.

 “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Isak says hurriedly and flashes a smile. The pictures pop into his mind again and he hates it. How on earth could a nightmare compromise his daily life. Why now, after so many nightmares. Why this one? He can feel both of his friends' eyes on him as he strides across the schoolyard his only goal getting to the library. And at the moment he doesn’t worry about what comes after it. He just wants to find out what's going on. He has so little understanding of what’s currently happening in his own life that his head hurts.  
Why couldn’t he have just asked? But Jonas didn’t seem to know what had happened to Isak’s phone although he had obviously been to the hospital with him, which was strange. How had Isak contacted him without a working phone? Or did it break afterwards? He realizes there are endless possibilities but the fact doesn't make him feel any easier. It makes it painfully obvious how little he remembers. Literally anything could've happened but he just can't get himself to ask. He finds himself too scared to admit that something is wrong and on the other hand too weirded out to hear what Jonas would have to say. He should remember things that had happened just the day before.

As he gets to the library Isak sets his backpack next to the chair he sits on. He switches on the computer and looks around while he waits for it to open. Everyone around him are so consumed in their own things and Isak has to wonder whether the whole world had gone weird or was it just him?

He googles about nightmares, vivid and realistic and keeps getting page after page talk about PTSD. But he can’t have that if it hadn’t really happened.

_PTSD is a psychological disorder that may develop after a traumatic experience, and it is characterized by one symptom that is particularly unique, called “re-experiencing”, or more commonly, "flashbacks". This is when the memory of a trauma is involuntarily recalled, usually triggered by cues in the environment that are somehow associated to the trauma. These intrusive trauma memories can be remarkably vivid, overwhelmingly emotional, and are experienced as if they were really happening right then and there.*_

“PTSD?”

Isak jumps at the sound feeling instantly embarrassed by his jumpiness. He instantly clicks away his websites like he would’ve been caught looking at porn.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out,” Eva says letting out a quiet laughter.

“I’m just a little on edge. The hand kept me awake,” Isak lies smiling a tired smile, “I have a psychology assignment about PTSD.”

Eva furrows her brows a bit as she nods slowly. “I didn’t know you take psychology. Anyway. I just saw you and wanted to ask if you’d like to come to a party at mines at Friday?”

Isak deflates almost noticeably as Eva unknowingly rescues him from lying more. He had no idea why he did that. Just lied instantly without even thinking about it. Would his friends really judge him even if there was something wrong with him, which there wasn’t. He was just sleep deprived.

“Sure, sounds chill.”                     

“Cool,” Eva smiles back and turns away but after a moment of hesitation turns back. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale?”

“Yeah. Just tired. And I’ve drank too much Red Bull,” Isak lies again laughing a bit too loudly as he gets mean looks from people close to them.

“Okay well. I’ll have to go back to studying,” Eva frowns and Isak looks behind her seeing Noora wave at him with a small lazy gesture and a smile.

He jumps again as he turns back to the computer’s screen and sees the image stare back at him. He tries to calm his racing heart by telling himself it’s just a picture but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on his fear that seems like the one of a child’s.

What monsters was he afraid of?  
What was it that scared him so much?  
Why was he so upset?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/dream-factory/201603/nightmares-after-trauma
> 
> OH and if you study literature, you can educate me if you want, but I'm just reminding these are Isak's thoughts not mine.


	5. I can tell that you're lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After listening to the wind whistle for hours, Isak covers his head with his pillow. He can't stand it's hollow howling even one more second. He had fallen asleep but just long enough to dream about it again. This time however it almost felt like his mind had gone numb to it and instead of rolling in selfpity and horror he was trying to make out where he was. It all seems so familiar but he's not sure if its only because he has seen the scene replay itself so many times or if he had actually been there before.

**Wednesday 02:37**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and mind the typos in the texts. I left them there on purpose. To make it more "authentic" but tell me if it's just disturbing and I wont leave them in the furture chapters :d


	6. Fake it till you make it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything he does is shadowed by a feeling of uneasiness. Something is wrong with his bed, his clothes, his breakfast cereal, the tram driver, his friends, his school, with FIFA and...  
> His parents will come back home on Friday and he is sure things will get better from that point on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! Again thanks a million to those of you who read this! I'm really looking forward to writing this. Hopefully when Isak's week reaches friday, things can finally start happening and the story moving. I'm so spooked out constantly by the darkness. Hopefully I succeed in transferring some of my own anxiety to this so that I can make it to be useful in some way :D
> 
> Sorry about the mistakes!♥

**[Wednesday 12:15](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wxI4KK9ZYo) **

Isak had read that when a person has been awake long enough they start having micro-sleeps or also knows as MSs. It is a temporary state of sleep that can last from a fracture of a second up to 30 seconds and during which a person loses consciousness. Usually people are not aware of having MSs. This doesn’t mean you have to be up for days in a row since even a few badly slept nights can lead to this and MS, according to Wikipedia, causes over 40 000 nonfatal and 1500 fatal injuries, in traffic, annually in the U.S. alone. 

He regrets googling this. Not because he is worried to get hit by a car (and 40 000 injuries compared to the U.S. population doesn’t seem that much) but because the thought of falling asleep without realizing it makes him feel anxious. So, he was listening to the babbling teacher so very closely. Not because he was keen on hearing what she had to say but to make sure he didn’t MS. Every sentence from start to finish has to make sense to him and they do for a good while.

“Isn’t it funny how he was missing an arm and yours is fractured?” she asks staring straight at Isak. A flash of cold, so violent that it makes him jolt, runs through the boy. His insides twist terribly and he starts feeling nauseous again when she smiles at him the most charming and kind smile.

“Excuse me?” Isak croaks and suddenly all eyes are on him. Including Mahdi’s whose dark eyes look troubled under his furrowed brows.

“Yes, Isak?” The teacher asks with the same kind smile.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he mumbles back at her avoiding Mahdi’s gaze as he gets up taking his backpack – but not his book, notebook or pencil case – and heads out.

He tries splashing some cold water onto his face several times but it doesn’t make much of a difference. In the movies characters always did it and it seemed to help somehow but perhaps it was just a movie thing. It makes his skin feel fresh but also dry and it does fuck-all to clear his head.  
He looks at himself from the mirror and frowns. Two days and he looks like shit. How on earth would he manage even one more.

“Get your shit together, Valtersen,” he says sternly pointing at his image that didn’t have the facial expression to back up the command.

Then he hears a click and to his utter horror one of the ugly green bathroom stall doors starts to slide open so painfully slowly. He stands there leaning to the sink with his healthy hand and watches the door open from the mirror. Behind it a tall boy appears and isn’t very successful in hiding his amusement sparked from Isak’s pep talk. He doesn’t say anything or even look at Isak as he walks to the sink next to him. Isak is openly staring without even realizing it but the blue-eyed boy doesn’t seem to care at all and he just goes about his business taking some soap from the dispenser and rubs it in his hands for an eternity.

One Mississippi,

two Mississippi,

three Mississippi,

four Mississippi,

five Mississippi

and then Isak stops counting when he realizes the tall boy is looking back at him still rubbing on the soap that has turned into a thick layer of white foam. It’s making Isak crazy and he has to fight himself to keep his mouth shut and not point out the bacteria wasn’t only dead but even their ghosts had been washed clean. But his mind is stubborn enough to try and fix all that into the look he gives the boy who just smiles back at him.

And then suddenly the boy just decides enough is enough and hastily washes off the sticky looking substance from his hands and leaves without drying them. This, to Isak, is mind boggling since everyone must’ve been told at some point that when it came to getting rid of bacteria drying your hands was as important as washing them because wet skin is an excellent growing platform for bacteria. For someone who washed their hands with such precision it seemed like an odd thing to do.

**15:43**

“I have your books,” Mahdi says as he catches up to Isak and Magnus, “you know, the ones you just casually left behind during English class?”

“Oh, right. Thanks,” Isak laughs, “you coming to Jonas’ to play fifa?”

“Nah, bro. I got to go home. Mom needs help. Her back is still not better,” Mahdi answers and says it like Isak should know what had happened to Mahdi’s mom’s back but he has no clue. Asking about it seems innocent enough, right?

“What happened to her back?” Isak asks instantly regretting his decision to do so as the other two share a look.

“What was that?” he asks gesturing between the two of them. He was suddenly feeling sick and tired of not knowing and not daring to ask. “That look you just shared?”

“She got into a car accident last week. I told you guys about it the day it happened, remember?” Mahdi talks slowly as if Isak wouldn’t otherwise understand  
No.  
Isak did, in fact, not remember. At all.

“Must’ve slipped my mind. I got a lot on my plate. Mom and dad, you know?” Isak lies but doesn’t even begin to understand why his words seem to deepen the look of distress on their faces.

“So, you’ve talked to your mom already?” Magnus asks. Talked about what? His hand, his grades, his untidy room? His teen angst?

“No. She’s not back yet,” Isak answers truthfully. His parents were currently in Sweden helping their mutual friend with a funeral. Isak had no idea why his relationship with his mom had become a sudden interest among his friends. Why on earth did they care whether he talked to her at all?

“Is everything all right?” Magnus outs the question both him and Mahdi had been thinking of and it makes Isak frown.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Why does everyone keep asking me if I’m fine? Do I seriously look that bad?” Isak answers trying to hide the fact that he is suddenly feeling very anxious and out of place. Why had the whole world gone upside down all of a sudden? Why did everyone seem to know so much that Isak for some reason didn’t but apparently should have.

God, how he hoped he could just go to bed and sleep it off but even his home didn’t feel like home anymore. His mind was constantly wandering and not caring his senses telling it to sleep. The closer it got to his so-called bedtime the more his chest weighed and by the end of the day Isak was afraid it would become too heavy for him to breath.

“Well not that bad but, I mean, pretty bad,” Mahdi jokes and Isak laughs forcefully. Something just was, oh, so terribly wrong with either him or everyone else. Something in the back of Isak’s head made sure to remind him of that constantly.

“Thanks for the comfort. Always appreciate your kindness,” he jokes back secretly hoping that would he pretend that everything was good long enough it would become true. It had been proven that if a person smiles a fake smile it actually affects your brain and might even fool it.  
In one particular test, two groups read comic books. One group held a pencil between their teeth, which made their facial expression mimic a smile while the other held the pen between their lips, which resembled a frown or a pout. The group who had bit down on the pencil rated the comic books funnier than their counterparts. So, in a way, all of them fooled their own brain into thinking they were having either more or less fun than they were actually having. Taken this into consideration, Isak’s efforts weren’t necessarily in vain or his logic fully abandoned in desperation.

Or at least that's what he keeps telling to himself.

  
_“To venture causes anxiety, but not to venture is to lose one's self.... And to venture in the highest is precisely to be conscious of one's self.”_  
\- Søren Kierkeraad

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. And did I say Even never transferred? I lied. He did. But a year later than in the series (:


	7. You've become my rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak is staring at his mattress. He has been doing so for a while. It has dried blood on it. An old stain that someone had tried to clean off. He has no memory of how the stain had been created and it seems odd since it wasn't a small one either.  
> Again something as mundane as changing the sheets had taken a weird twist that made everything seem so absurd. The anxiety comes crawling back and again he can't sleep but only sees the empty stare of his own green eyes. He can't get rid of the smell of blood that had suddenly taken over his room.

**Thursday 03:40**

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	8. One more day to make it less okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak is loosing grip on the reality as his mind constantly flickers between wake and sleep never revealing the answer to his question of what is real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! Things take a hard twist. Isak isn't doing too well anymore because he can't sleep. Yup. I'm trying to keep the weird shit to a minimum so that this remains somewhat understandable but boy is it hard.  
> Again thanks a million for reading! I will add the text-message conversation from the Thu-Fri night probably later today or tomorrow, so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> *this chapter contains gruesome details! Read with caution if you're easily disgusted although my depictions are not that realistic. Shame.

**Thursday 12:30**

Isak’s eyes fall on his fingers peeking out of the cast. He hasn’t remembered to exercise them like the doctor had told him to. The note with the instructions had been lying on his desk and not even once had he read it through. And as he forgot all about the cast and tried to grab a juice box he noticed he couldn’t move any of his fingers at all. The longer he stared at them telling them to move, the more he started to see how blue they were. Hand shaking, he reaches his healthy hand to touch the tip of his index finger. Ice cold and he feels the touch only on his healthy hand.

His heart jumps and he grabs the fingers trying to warm and rub them but it makes no difference. The world goes quiet as he lets go and the only thing he can smell is a foul smell of rotten flesh, he remembers smelling before. Awakening the memory of the long dead pine tree reaching over the rotten body lying forgotten on the ground. No longer bitter coffee or the sweet pastry in front of him.

“No, no, no,” he repeats so many times he loses count and despite his efforts he feels a panic quickly take over his thoughts. The only clear sound is the one screaming him to take the cast off. Right there and then. He grabs it firmly with the healthy hand and starts pulling harder and harder. He can feel the unpleasant feeling in his forearm as he does so. The continuous crackling of his wrist echoes in the cafeteria so loudly it breaks in his eardrums to a fizz. He keeps pulling and the unpleasant feeling in his forearm turns into pain that runs in cold waves through his body. He can almost hear the tissue of his skin break under the pressure he is putting it on and the muscle fibres tearing  apart, but he can’t stop pulling on the cast. He just does it harder and the knuckles on his hand turn white from the grip. Finally, his hand jerks forward and he can hear the flesh tearing apart as blood splatters on to his face, his coffee and pastry lying on the table. Isak’s mouth opens to a scream but all sound gets muffled in his throat. He gapes at the loose hand dripping rotten tissue and black blood on him unable to let go.

Isak closes his eyes. He squeezes his eyelids together so tightly he sees stars. A plumb tear falls down his cheek as he opens his eyes again only to see the cast filled with drawings and the blue rotten hand inside it still there. He can feel vomit stinging in his throat as the coffee he had drank climbs back up. He lets go of the hand as he tries to get away but he only manages to stand up before he gags out black substance that looks similar to the black thick blood and rotten tissue spread around him. It spurts from his nose replacing the foul rotten smell with an acid sour one that burns inside his nostrils. His eyes tear up even more as the gagging reflex goes on.

He slowly turns to look at the remainder of his injured hand and as he does so his mouth opens up to another scream but this time he finds his voice.

“Isak!”

Isak blinks a couple of times. At first, he can’t see a thing from his panic but soon enough he is met by Jonas standing opposite to him on the other side of the table covered in vomit. His hands are spread out as he looks at his trousers and hoodie in disgust. People around them were getting up in obvious lack of appetite and fear of catching whatever Isak had. But Isak doesn’t see other people. Only Jonas.

“If you lie to me that you’re fine one more fucking time I’m going to strangle you,” Jonas says shaking his hands slightly making drops of the dark awful smelling vomit coffee fly around.

Isak is still so shaken up he can’t say anything. His throat hurts, his heart is beating like crazy and his nose is stinging. He feels so faint that he doesn’t dare anything else than sit back down and stare. He doesn’t even realize he should be embarrassed about something before he touches the cast and notices his hand is intact.

“Holy shit. That was like straight from The Exorcist,” Magnus points out eyes still wide open from the shock.

“Not the time Mags,” Jonas retorts rather harshly. “Get up Isak. We’re leaving, now.”

**13:40**

“I’m so sorry,” Isak says for the thousandth time when Jonas throws the towel to his room’s floor. Isak tries not to stare at him as he gets dressed but not very successfully.

“It’s okay. Not like you did it on purpose,” Jonas says for the thousandth time sitting down to the couch next to Isak. “What’s going on?”

Isak doesn’t answer Jonas’ gaze. He doesn’t know which he hates more: Jonas asking or not knowing what to answer.

“Nothing.”

“You threw up on me and after that yelled like a psychopath in our school cafeteria. That’s not ‘nothing’. We’re worried about you, Isak,” Jonas says his tone getting harsher towards the end of the sentence and Isak can hear the frustration loud and clear. What was he supposed to say? It’s not like Jonas could stop him from having these nightmares or make him fall asleep.

“I’m having trouble sleeping. I’m having these nightmares,” he gives up a part of the truth out of pressure.

Jonas wraps his arms around Isak and hugs him tightly. Isak’s eyebrows rise in surprise. Why was Jonas so compassionate all of a sudden? It’s not like Isak wouldn’t have had insomnia before. Was there something else going on? The fact that Jonas seems so concerned is making Isak even more concerned.

“It’s okay. It’ll pass like always,” Isak says not realizing he didn’t answer the hug before Jonas lets go.

“I know you’re strong but sometimes it’s okay not to be. You’re not alone in this. We all are here for you,” Jonas says, and his eyes look so concerned, sad and honest.

“If you really want to help me just let it go. It’s not that big of a deal. I think I just ate something bad. Maybe the coffee or I don’t know. But your stressing makes me stress too, so please don’t.”

“I don’t like pretending. I know you’re not well. I can’t just ignore that. You must call the police. It’s fucking fine time already. Otherwise we’re going to do it for you. We’re not going to watch you fall apart any longer,” Jonas answered sounding very determined, but his words were wasted as once again Isak has no idea what he was talking about. Could he know about the body after all? Had it not been a dream?

“Why would I call the cops?”

“We know your dad broke your hand, Isak.”

  _Oh no._

**21:45**

The tram is almost completely empty. Apart from a few hobos laying asleep in the middle part of the rattling vehicle. The sickeningly yellow light above Isak is blinking unevenly like it would be on the verge of dimming out and struggling to stay on. It is so dark outside that from the dirty window he can only see his own reflection at first. Isak has to squint his eyes a little and really concentrate hard to see past his reflection squinting back at him in order to make out where he is. The screen that was supposed to tell the names of the stops is out of order. Just his luck.

Isak had been so dumbfounded by Jonas’ accusation that he hadn’t answered anything and the only thing he came up to his dad’s defence was ‘my dad didn’t do it. We crashed with your bike’, which would’ve hardly done anything to convince Jonas. In reality it would’ve probably made his friend even more worried for him. But now he knew what they had talked about earlier. They had tried to fish out whether Isak had told his mom about his dad’s aggressive behaviour. But yet again Isak is even more confused than before. He is so taken aback by this new twist that he completely forgets the whole episode that broke the camel’s back in the first place. He doesn’t remember to be ashamed of shouting from the bottom of his lungs in the school cafeteria or puking on his best friend. Now that he thinks about it, even Eva seemed to be worried. Could it be that everyone around him thought his dad is abusing him?  
The person he knew would never do anything to harm him. His father had been neglecting before but that didn’t make him a bad person in Isak’s eyes. He is just like any other father he had seen with long hours in work, a couple of beers on the weekends and some football. Never had he done anything to deserve such a reputation.

He just simply can’t wrap his head around why would everyone think that and throw around such accusations without talking to Isak about it first? Surely Isak would know if he was being abused more than Jonas or any one of his friends for that matter. And he wasn’t. It feels so silly to even think about it. When had he ever given any reason to make them think about something so horrible about his family? He hates it how whenever he seems to get an answer it only gives him more questions.

As he again tries to peer outside from the window he freezes. He can’t move as his body seems to weigh a ton. His breath hitches as his chest too feels too stiff to expand and his alveoli clears out the carbon dioxide while not receiving any oxygen to replace it making Isak feel like the weight of his own skin is slowly crushing him.  
the lights keep flickering and it breaks his view for a fracture of a second again and again and every time it happens the figure next to him looks more and more vivid.  
A cold touch on his hand makes the skin crawl and he can’t turn his head to see. He can only see the outlines and that something is certainly there, but rest of the figure is hiding behind his own reflexion.

Isak closes his eyes. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real,” he whispers to himself breathlessly. His voice wheezes and whistles strangely as it is strained from the lack of air.

“What is?”

Isak’s whole body jerks and for a moment he feels like he’s falling but the illusion is gone the second he opens his eyelids to find two kind blue eyes looking at him from the bench before him. He glances at the seat next to him inhaling deeply and desperately air filling his lungs again but it’s empty. Just like he had thought. His mind had been playing tricks on him again.

The strong yellow light paints the other person’s smooth skin a weird colour and it’s making Isak’s head hurt.

“What?” Isak answers letting his eyes fall shut a couple of times as he tries to get a grip on the reality. Eyes heavy with sleep and head feeling stuffy. He had also read that it was the brain that really needed the sleep unlike what scientist had believed before. Apparently during sleep brains cleaned themselves and arranged the new knowledge and forgot any useless information. That’s why insomnia quickly affects a person’s cognitive abilities.

“You look spooked. I didn’t scare you, did I?”

It’s the soap boy, Isak notices after connecting the dots. He is so grateful for the interference as lately his mind had become the scariest thing to him and sadly there was no escaping it - [unless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ud3SitWflRo) he would decide to end his own life. And the soap-boy had unknowingly rescued Isak from suffocating.

“No, I must’ve fallen asleep,” Isak answers trying to discard all the awkwardness from the conversation with a small smile.

“Like in the cafeteria today?” the boy asks letting his eyebrows raise and then fall as quickly. Even this stranger sees through him. No wonder Isak’s friends are worried about him.

“Fuck. You saw that?”

“I did. I also saw you were trying to rip your cast off before you screamed. It seemed to go unnoticed by your friends. How’s the hand?” the soap-boy asks dropping his gaze to take a closer look on Isak’s broken hand. Isak hadn’t noticed it before but he, in fact, does feel a stinging pain pulsing from his wrist all the way to his shoulder.

“Were you staring at me?”

The soap-boy smiles a wide smile revealing his pearly white teeth. “You can hardly blame me. You’re making it hard not to.”

“I’m Even,” he continues offering a hand, “I promise I’m not as big of a creep as you might think.”

Even.

_Like sleep, dreams are vulnerable to disruption from problems with mental and physical health. There are a number of conditions (as well as medications) that may affect dreams, and that can make dreams more difficult and[disturbing](https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/sleep-newzzz/201502/why-do-we-dream)*_

__

Maybe he should go see a doctor. Not only for the hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And about the sleeping thing. I read a few theories about why we dream and sleep in my latest psychology course and it was so interesting! I decided not to go too into these (even though I originally wanted to) just because if someone is familiar with these theories and studies, it might get boring.


	9. The cure for insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak hates the way his breathing is so uneven. He hates how he shakes as he hears his bedroom door slowly creack open but he is too tired to move. His heart beats like crazy and his senses are begging him to run but he lies there on his bed waiting. As he wakes up from his short sleep he doesn't remember to be scared about the way he felt about dying. He doesn't remember humans were supposed to love life and be scared of death. Maybe because he thinks to himself that nothing can be as scary as being alive when you're loosing your grip on the world and everything that makes your life worth living.
> 
> He hates everything. Fuck his head, his life, his friends, his family, fuck the soap-boy and especially fuck the fucking strange creep texting him.
> 
> D-O-N-E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a refrence to the picture at the end of the previous chapter. Just in case you didn't notice.

**Friday 04:01**

****

****

**  
  
** I **know** what it's like to be sleep...* **  
**I'm not even gonna pretend that was intentional. It wasn't and it bothers me somehow XD  
I'm sorry. ****  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww. I feel so bad for the grey dude :(  
> ps. Always read the summary in these "texting"-chapters! :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!♥


	10. What year is it again? Friday part 1

**Friday 12:00**

“Can I sit here?”

Isak stares at Even blankly for a while before nodding out of courtesy and the other sits down. The cafeteria is almost empty, so he really doesn’t understand why on earth Even wants to sit with him. But on the other hand, he had done so in the tram too. And hadn’t left even though Isak hadn’t been exactly nice.

“I think your warm sandwich isn’t warm anymore,” he continues making Isak drop his ghostly stare to his undoubtedly cold food. He proceeds to push it away from himself.

“I wasn’t hungry. What’s it to you?” Isak answers rather coldly.

“Sorry. I was just making conversation,” Even says lowering his coffee cup onto the table and the bitter smell makes Isak nauseous. The boy starts feeling bad about his moodiness when he sees Even’s expression darken a hinge.

“I’m sorry but I’m not very good company right now,” Isak explains closing his eyes for a second as he waits for a sudden pain pounding inside his skull to pass. All he can think about is the pine trees and the body in their shadows. Isak can’t help thinking that the stranger might be right after all, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

“What’s that on your bread?” Even asks taking a sip from his coffee and they both stare at Isak’s cold sandwich for a while.

“Cardamom,” Isak answers sporting a lazy smile after realizing what Even had meant and the answer makes Even’s eyebrows furrow.

“Sounds awful. I hate cardamom,” the taller says squinting his nose lightly at the thought. After that a silence falls between them during which Isak gets lost in his thoughts and Even stares at him. The whole room dims a little as the sun gets covered by a dark cloud that promises rain.

“Great conversation,” Even says laughing and it makes Isak’s attention shift back to him.

“Can I ask you something?” Isak asks staring into Even’s coffee cup. The coffee was black and the brown bubbles on the surface twirled around from Even stirring it.

“Shoot,” Even smiles all ears.

“Do we know each other?”

Even’s smile fades and for a moment he looks almost disappointed.

“I mean, like _know_?” Isak specifies just to be sure but it doesn’t have any effect on Even’s expression. Isak just can’t shake the feeling of familiarity in the way that Even speaks to him – like he would know Isak personally. Considering everything else that is going on and all the things Isak has seemingly forgotten it’s not the craziest idea.

“I think you’d know if we _knew_ each other?” Even says and Isak feels like he’s dodging the question. Maybe his lack of sleep has clouded his judgement or starting to make him delusional.

“I guess. The way you talk to me makes me feel like we’d known each other for quite a while.”

“Don’t worry. You’d remember me,” Even jokes grinning lazily and it draws a short laughter out of Isak.

“I wouldn’t count on it. My memory’s been strange lately,” Isak answers.

“I just figured you weren’t one for small talk. Was I wrong?”

“No,” Isak admits watching as Even picks up his backpack but instead of leaving, like Isak thought he was going to do, he opens it and starts looking for something.

“Can I draw on your cast?” he asks taking off a cap from a marker he pulls out of his bag.

“I guess,” Isak shrugs reaching out his hand so that Even can reach it.

He can’t really see what Even is drawing, so he looks at Even’s face instead and adores the concentrated serious expression on it. He is finished rather quickly. Or not. Isak’s not really clear on time. Half the time it goes so agonizingly slowly but then again, the pleasant moments seem to pass in a blink of an eye. Just when he is about to enjoy something it’s already gone like it never even existed, since Isak can only enjoy them in the present as his mind and memories are preserved for only nightmares, each one more disturbing than the last. And just right, Even is already up with his bag on his back.

“Are you coming? To the party tonight?” Isak asks before he can stop himself.

“See you around, Isak,” Even says sharing a kind smile before leaving Isak staring dumbly after him.

Isak? Had Even stalked his social medias because Isak sure as hell hadn’t shared his name due to his complete lack of manners, which again was a flower of his insomnia.

As soon as Even disappears from sight Isak remembers the drawing on his cast. His heart is beating oddly as he looks at it. It’s a small drawing placed between two of Magnus’ not-so-artistic drawings of penises. It's a drawing of [a dream catcher](http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Dream_Catcher). One with big feathers and under it, is a phone number that Isak can just barely make out.

**17:30**

His parents come home looking like a couple of zombies. They don’t talk to each other, they barely say hello to Isak before his mom closes herself inside their bedroom and dad sits down at the kitchen table. Isak doesn’t like it. Not one bit. The people who were supposed to bring him sleep and easiness brought only concern. From the moment they stepped into the house a darkness spread through it making everything grey and ominous, unfamiliar. The photos in their living room, the colour of the walls and the kitchen cupboards.

“How was your trip?” Isak asks while going through the freezer. He finds the frozen pizza he had bought on Tuesday, maybe? He’s not sure. But he doesn’t want to eat it and since there’s nothing else, he closes the door holding in a sigh.

“Hand me a beer, will you?” the man replies with a dry tone not even bothering to look at Isak, who stares at his back for a second before answering:

“Sure.”

Their conversation is like from a lousy movie with the gaps between their words long enough to make the audience forget they were even having a conversation. It is all kinds of unnatural and that makes the man in the kitchen seem strange to Isak. Like they would be two strangers unwilling to talk to each other but out of external pressure forced to try and say something.

As soon as the beer switches owners a strong hand grabs Isak’s retreating hand by the wrist seizing its movement. Isak freezes on the spot to stare at his father filled with anticipation. He is almost certain the hand has an odd greyish tone to it and it’s so cold it makes the boy shiver.

“You do know it’s not true, right? Whatever they say happened to Lea?” his dark voice says and suddenly pausing between the two sentences. His tired eyes are looking straight forward, not even glancing at the person he is talking to. Lea. Isak’s mind falls blank as he realizes she hadn’t come home with their parents. She hadn’t called or texted him all week. But something stops Isak from asking. Instead he nods and smiles a week smile trying not to show how much he starts trembling before his father lets go and covers his tired face with his big hands.  
Isak backs away slowly from the big man leaning above the table the same way the pine trees had leaned over his rotten corpse. Every creak of the floor makes him frown as if he was afraid of attracting the man’s attention. It wasn’t his dad. Whoever this person was, it couldn’t be his father. His father didn’t talk like that, he didn’t act like that and he didn’t look so old. What had happened on their trip?

After he backs out from the kitchen he turns on his heels and sprints into Leas room heart pounding out of his chest. As the door flies open the wave of air blows dust off the furniture making Isak cough. He takes a few long steps inside the room that looks to have frozen in time. Her posters, desk, bookshelf and the books in it – all coated with a thick layer of the same dust that is flying around. The cheap Ikea clock on the wall is ticking unevenly. The hand of it twitching but not moving forward. Trapped in time. Only her bed isn’t made and without the dust on it too, it would’ve looked like she would’ve just gotten up. The stuffy scent of the room makes his head hurt and irritates his eyes making them go red.  
Isak stops breathing as he feels shivers run down his spine when he looks at the unfinished homework on her desk waiting for her to finish up. He backs away slowly from the ominous frozen room. One quiet step after another and closes the door as quietly as he possibly can. He needs to get out of this house as soon as he can - and _while_ he still can - as he suddenly feels like the house has become a place out of touch with anything else and where time moves so slowly he’d be trapped there for a thousand years with these unknown zombies who were posing as his parents.

“D-dad?” he asks with a weak voice as he heads back to the kitchen doorway. The man hums as quietly as a response. “Could I lend your phone? Mine is still broken.”

“Sure, Issy. It’s in my jacket’s pocket. Don’t lose it,” he answers glancing at Isak and sharing a small smile.

It takes Isak a while to look for it as his hand trembles so badly he has major difficulties opening the jacket’s pockets’ buttons and as he finds it he miss-clicks numerous times as his vision gets blurry from his eyes tearing up. He clicks on the contact that says Lea and holds the phone up to his ear waiting full of dread. It doesn’t beep even once.

_The number you have dialled is no longer in use. Please try dialling again._

__

 


	11. ...I'll be there for you (when your sanity starts to fall)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year...

**Friday 18:30**

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****

 


	12. Not you too, please. Friday part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is a lie  
> LIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is... Look, I told myself I wouldn't be too critical when writing this one. Because I write this almost solely on my bus rides back from work because that's when I'm scared. Then I spell check it at home. Sorry, not sorry. Haha. This is my almost-apology for the fact that this chapter is awful. 
> 
> Hang tight and I just want to again thank every single one of you who has read this!
> 
> I'm such a nervous person that I usually _never post any of my texts anywhere but I promised myself I would have fun with this. Purely fun, no stress, and thanks a million for letting me have my fun. Hopefully I've managed to make you even a bit spooked at some point or if not, I hope you've enjoyed me torturing Isak. 
> 
> Cheers!♥

**23:05**

Isak can’t stand the way he feels like everyone is constantly watching him. It makes his body feel like it weighs a ton and his movements even more slow and awkward than they already seem from his lack of sleep. The alcohol is making his eyelids droopy the one time he’s actually not looking to go to sleep.

Isak feels unconnected from everyone around him in a way that makes him feel like he would exist in a different level of the spacetime continuum and flicker between the levels being only a visitor, a stranger, in this realm. Everything gets twisted in his eyes. Every happy smile turns into an empty grin and every bit of laughter has an odd tone to it that makes the hair on his body stand up. Just like his home even the outside world had turned grey and ominous and every person in it into one dimensional puppets just staring and smiling.  
The music is so loud that it makes him incapable of thinking, but he can’t shake off the feeling of being the only one bothered by this. In a way, he appreciates the distraction, but it doesn’t help him on his quest on fitting in among the people he used to call his friends but now seem like complete strangers.

The things these people talk about and how they do it: If Isak couldn’t see that it is actually Jonas talking in front of him, he couldn’t tell. It was like the pretentious, understanding hipster had been replaced by someone else. He seems to like a lot of the same things but his views and the way he talks just don’t sit right with Isak. He can’t exactly point out what is wrong with everyone, but he can feel something is off. He can’t help but think that every conversation is just pointless babble everyone engages in only because it’s what people were supposed to do in parties.

Isak tries so hard to convince himself it’s all in his head but can’t hear his thoughts over the thumping of the bass.

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

And it’s quickly making him feel nauseous.

“Last weekend was fucking dope! We have to do it again soon,” Magnus says. Although it’s the first thing Isak remembers hearing in a while he can conclude it to be a continuation of a conversation that has been going on for some time while he hasn’t been listening.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so high,” Jonas continues making this the first interaction to get Isak’s somewhat undivided attention. “And next time you’ll come too, right?” Jonas smiles turning to look at Isak, who still can’t hear his thoughts well.

_What?_

“Where?” he asks interrupting Mahdi, who had just opened his mouth. But Isak wasn’t going to let this one slip away. Last weekend he had hung out with Jonas. The whole weekend. Just them two, for the old times sake. Jonas had been staying over at Isak’s since Isak’s parents were out of town. They had binged Stranger Things and played FIFA before starting to google creepy pastas and finding out about the haunted house relatively nearby they had tried to find on Sunday. But apparently Isak is not only hazy about Monday but about the whole weekend or the last fucking five years for all he knew.

“My summer cabin?” Jonas says, and he laughs but the way his expression flickers tells Isak it’s definitely not an amused laughter. Anything but amused. “Where else?”

He clarifies. Isak figures he should know but Jonas and the boys spending the past weekend in Jonas’ parent’s summer cabin was definitely news to him and not the pleasant kind.

“Sorry. I wasn’t listening,” Isak says shrugging like it’s no big deal finding out none of your memories seem [true](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cye-1RP5jso).

“Unless you’re ‘sick’ then too,” Mahdi says with an expression that says more than his words but they talk in different languages.

“Sick of hanging out with _us_ you mean,” Magnus smiles a lopsided smile and winks to Isak.

“What?” Isak furrows his brows making Mahdi roll his eyes.

“We know you lied, Isak. If you don’t want to be so obvious, don’t post pictures where you’re obviously hanging with someone,” he says and Isak feels empty.

“Was it some chick? Is she hot?”

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

It takes a while for Isak to realize he can’t hear a thing. The world has gone silent. All three of his friends look at him. All of them talking but Isak hears nothing. Pointless.  
The people look funny dancing in the silence. It makes them look so naked. Exposed.

Even does show up at Eva’s. Isak almost crashes into him on his way out to catch some fresh air. Instead of apologizing Isak pushes Even back out from the door following him.

“Can I lend your phone?” he asks after the door bangs shut and without waiting for an answer holds out his hand expectantly. Even doesn’t hesitate even for a second, which Isak would’ve found odd if he wouldn’t have been too busy thinking about his Instagram account. It was the first time he had given it a thought that week. Isak hears a weird screeching deep inside his ears. It resembles the sound you hear on video games or movies when a grenade explodes near the characters.

“You don’t have an Instagram?” he frowns after going through all of Even’s phone’s apps.

“You want to lend my phone to check your Instagram? Didn’t think you were the type to fuss over something like that,” Even says with a serious tone but judging from his smile, Isak knows he’s only kidding. It still makes the boy in question groan in frustration.

“You wouldn’t believe even if I told you.”

He opens the browser and goes to Instagram but when he tries to log in his password is incorrect.

“How interesting can a story behind wanting to check one’s Instagram be?” the taller asks raising his eyebrows to further his doubt but Isak isn’t looking. Nor is he listening either.

He can’t log in. He tries every single one of his past passwords, which takes him a while since his memory is just a big mess, but none of them work. He can hear Even talking to him. Or from his voice’s intonation he can specify that Even is asking him something but frankly he’s not interested and the sound of Even’s voice fades to distant muffles as Isak concentrates.

Login failed. Login failed. Login failed. Login failed. Login failed.

He runs out of patient eventually and just googles his account - feeling stupid he hadn’t done so to begin with – and skims through his feed. He can recall neither taking or adding none of the pictures. It’s like he’s looking at someone else’s life. Isak notices that he is bruised in every single photo he’s in. Even in the one added on

Sunday.

He checks the hashtags but there’s no implication it’s a throwback, which leads him to believe it might have actually been taken the same day. The bruises on his neck are faint but obviously there.

He clicks open the newest picture and tries to zoom in on his arm as it in the photo seems to have some markings or scars on it. But it turns out to be a hard task to do with only one hand and he only manages to make the picture twitch lightly. Then suddenly it turns grey. All the bright colours in it vanish and Isak doesn’t even notice anything’s wrong before he removes his thumb from blocking the photo. The Isak in the picture turns his head slowly and frowns a deep morbid frown before thick black liquid blurts out of his mouth covering the unmoving surroundings completely. As an instinct Isak lets go of the phone gasping and time slows down as he watches it fall. The Isak on the picture is spitting out his teeth and coughing soundlessly trying not to choke on the thick black substance flowing out of his open mouth. His oddly coloured skin starts to rot developing big shiny blisters before the skin’s tissue breaks. The Isak in the picture looks him in the eye pleadingly – as if begging the real Isak to help him - moving closer to the screen and tries to reach out his blistered grey hand but before it can reach out of the picture it falls off and the phone hits the asphalt, the impact making the screen go black. Isak is holding his breath but it seems to scare him in a different way as the things he had seen before as somehow, he feels so distanced from the person in the picture it’s almost like it’s not even him. He feels bad, horrified from the disgusting sight but this time Isak doesn’t fear for his life.

“Sorry,” he manages to say when Even picks up the phone wiping it clean with his sleeve. It was the rotten corpse. Again. He feels the same nauseating horror in the pit of his stomach.

“What do you post on your Instagram?” Even asks obviously referring to Isak’s horrified expression.

“Nothing unusual,” Isak replies truthfully.

The boy in the pictures had looked so unhappy. Miserable even through the smile. Sick and tired of life. But that’s not how Isak remembers his life, at all. Everything was fine before Monday. He had been, in fact, feeling very content in his life before that doomed sunny autumn day. But now it felt like it had been years since that day. It was easily the longest week of Isak’s life. It is a complete surprise what a bad five days can do to a person’s psyche.

“Then I need to know what is usual for you because you had a very unusual face considering you were looking at your Instagram feed,” Even says but his tone is light and not concerned at all, which pleases Isak greatly. At least one person treats him like a normal teenager instead of something badly broken and it makes him doubt the realness of the things he sees making it easier to push them away. It furthers him from the maddening nightmare that had become his life.

“You’ve no idea,” Isak jokes back huffing out a laughter, “but to be honest, I don’t have a clue either. You’d think I’m batshit crazy if I told you.”

“I don’t mind a little crazy. I have some experience with that,” Even shrugs.

“I said batshit crazy. Not a little.”

“I heard you.”

**02:25**

Isak closes the door as quietly as he possibly can to avoid waking up his parents. He takes off his shoes and jacket holding his breath and tip-toes his way into his bedroom. He sits down on the edge of his bed looking at his cast, or more specifically Even’s drawing on it. The dreamcatcher with big feathers and the phone number under it. He digs out his old Nokia typing in the number and saving the contact.

_Even B.N._

While he stares at the number and thinks about the way Even’s smile makes his stomach flutter he makes sure to save it on the sim card.

And then once again - a good moment is fleeting - and his stomach twists and shivers run down his spine.

He feels betrayed. And afraid.

_Who the fuck are you_

 


	13. Been a hell of a week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Can't wait for it to be over. 
> 
> "The week?"
> 
> -Huh? Sure. That too, Isak yawns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a crisis. I've written athousand different endings to this but boy are they dark. Jeez. Not very good though. I haven't managed to describe Isak's frustration and things believably enough. It might take while of brainstorming to wrap this up! So itmight take a while for me to finish this. Haha. Might. Or who knows, maybe I'll get it done tomorrow. But Two or three chapters to go!(excluding the texting "chapters")
> 
> And I just realized I have clickbaited with the Isak/Even pairing... I meant to tag that it's NOT the focus of the story and mostly just implied. Good thing to tag, sadly I forgot to do so. But I'm doing it now. My sincerest apologies if someone mistook this for a love story. It's not. BOOM

**Saturday 02:40**

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